


highway to hell

by takethebreadsticksandRUN



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Except Jon and Tim are friends, Gen, Jon is in the mechanisms, M/M, Martin gets his arson, Road trip shenanigans, Songfic, The Unknowing (The Magnus Archives), alternating between crackfic and angst, canon violence, dasira if you read it with a magnifying glass, pretty canon compliant, the house of wax, the jonmartin is there if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:02:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24765118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takethebreadsticksandRUN/pseuds/takethebreadsticksandRUN
Summary: “Come back safe,” Martin whispered as he hugged Tim fiercely. Pulling back, he held him at arm's length. “You hear me?”“Yes sir!” He saluted. “Don’t burn the place down. Or, you know what? Go ahead. Burn it to the ground. I think you deserve a little arson, as a treat.” Martin chuckled, patting his pocket, checking for the lighter.“I will do my best.” Tim watched as he hurried back into the Institute, giving a final wave to the people already waiting in the car. With a pang in his throat but resolve in his gut, he walked towards it.Time to make things right.ORThe day they save the world kinda plus banter and love and support and Tim...
Relationships: Basira Hussain & Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Tim Stoker & Everybody
Comments: 5
Kudos: 67





	highway to hell

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! this actually turned out way better than I had hoped. you know when something so cute happens in a fic you have to stop reading? yeah that happened but with angst. I am weak and couldn't bring myself to write Tim's last moments  
> I got there eventually  
> Please comment and tell me what you think!  
> xxx

**_Livin’ easy_ **

**_Lovin’ free_ **

“Come back safe,” Martin whispered as he hugged Tim fiercely. Pulling back, he held him at arm's length. “You hear me?”

“Yes sir!” He saluted. “Don’t burn the place down. Or, you know what? Go ahead. Burn it to the ground. I think you deserve a little arson, as a treat.” Martin chuckled, patting his pocket, checking for the lighter.

“I will do my best.” Tim watched as he hurried back into the Institute, giving a final wave to the people already waiting in the car. With a pang in his throat but resolve in his gut, he walked towards it.

_Time to make things right._

As he piled into the spacious van with Jon, Daisy, and Basira, Tim knew they might never return. But it was a risk he was willing to take to save the world.

**_Season ticket on a one-way ride_ **

**_Askin’ nothin’_ **

Daisy at the wheel with Basira riding shotgun, he ended up in the middle with Jon. He said nothing, but Tim could see his hands shaking as he did up his buckle. _Nothing new here._ From what he could see of the back of Daisy’s head, she was… well. He wasn’t sure. She wasn’t smiling, but she wasn’t frowning either. So that was good, right?

Basira tapped her fingers on the dusty dashboard, a complex rhythm that could be music if you closed your eyes. Thumping off-beats with delicate taps, weaving and bobbing.

“Hey, Daisy, I assume your ancient wreck of a van has an aux cord?” Tim asked, more to break the heavy atmosphere than anything.

Wordlessly she passed back a wire patched with electrical tape. Gingerly, he took it. “Are you sure this won’t blow up my phone?” he asked lightly, wincing internally at the mention of explosives.

“Well, if it starts sparking, at least we have something else to throw at the Stranger,” Basira joked.

**_Leave me be_ **

**_Takin’ everything in my stride  
_ **

Jon smiled and Tim saw Daisy’s shoulders relax slightly. _Well, if that’s what they needed to get in the mood to blow stuff up,_ he thought, _so be it._

“Any requests?” he asked, gently plugging in the cord. The women in the front seat shrugged; Jon shook his head. “Alrighty then, you are not allowed to complain!” Tim waved his finger.

_I’m too sexy for my love, too sexy for…_

“TIM!”

**_Don’t need reason_ **

**_Don’t need rhyme_ **

“You didn’t ask for anything else!” he protested, changing the song anyways. Jon perked up as a strong bass began to pulse through the speakers, his head nodding to the beat. Basira twisted around in her seat as he began to sing along with Freddy Mercury.

“You actually have good taste!” she said in surprise. “ _Another One Bites the Dust_? I’m proud of you.”

“I did that,” Daisy said, a hint of a smile softening her voice. “Jonny-boy and I spent a lot of time together after the, uh, _coffin incident._ I couldn’t let him keep living his life listening to classical music, could I?”

“Buzz off,” Jon muttered, but it was weak. “I happen to like Mozart and Tchaikovsky very much.”

“Ah, but you also have a crush on Freddy Mercury, do you not?” Basira asked, nodding sagely.

“He can rock that white tank top,” Tim offered. Jon rolled his eyes.

“I appreciate his sense of style,” he said simply, returning to staring out the window. The entire car exploded with laughter, leaving him confused. “What?” he asked defensively.

“You’re so _deadpan_ about it, I don’t know if you’re joking or not.” Daisy glanced at him in the rearview mirror. As they bantered, Tim thought again of what they were about to attempt.

**_Ain’t nothin’ that I’d rather do_ **

**_Goin’ down_ **

“Whatever happens,” Jon said seriously, making eye contact with him, “I want you all to know, I’m sorry. I am so sorry for all of this.”

“Apology accepted. But don’t go around getting all high and mighty,” Tim warned, “You’re still a prick.”

“But,” Basira called back to them, “You’re our prick, _Archivist_.” Daisy hummed in agreement.

“Thanks, guys,” Jon groaned. “You know, I have no idea why I even bother anymore.”

Tim slung an arm across his shoulder, disregarding all known laws regarding seat belts and passenger safety. “Because you love us, that’s why,” he said clearly as if explaining something to a child.

**_Party time_ **

**_My friends are gonna be there too_ **

“Well, that was a lovely moment of sentimentality. Jon, you have come a long way in the field of expressing your feelings,” Daisy said, with the smallest trace of a growl, a mark of the Hunt that had claimed her.

“Not far enough,” Basira teased. “I did hear you say to a _certain archival assistant_ the other day that they were a valued member of the team, but you mumbled half of it.”

Jon looked confused and she dropped the subject.

They fell into a comfortable sort of silence, eighties rock playing through the speakers. Tim rolled down his window, sticking his head out precariously.

**_I’m on the highway to hell_ **

**_On the highway to hell_ **

“Be careful,” Daisy warned, “Or you might find my hand slips-“ The car veered to the side dangerously, ancient wheels creaking. Hastily he withdrew from the window, pouting.

“Aww, you’re no fun.”

“We are on the way to blow up a ritual attempting to remake the world in the image of the Stranger and you’re talking about having a good time?” Jon asked incredulously.

“Relax, it was a joke, Mr. Spooky.”

“We might die,” he said seriously.

“I am aware. And if I can’t die having fun, blowing stuff up with my friends, taking out creepy avatars, then I don’t want it,” Tim said with a grin. ** _  
  
_**

**_Highway to hell_ **

**_I’m on the highway to hell_ **

Jon sighed, giving up. “Whatever makes you happy.”

The van roared around the turns, wind rushing in through the open window. Basira lay back in her seat, staring at the ceiling. “I know I shouldn’t say this, for obvious reasons, but I. Am extremely bored.”

Tim laughed at this. “Adrenaline junkie?”

**_No stop signs  
Speed limit_ **

“Well, between being a police officer and working in a haunted house, I would say yes,” she replied.

“I can help with that,” Daisy said, baring her teeth in a grin. Jon sat up nervously at the tone in her voice.

“Whatever you are planning on doing,” he warned, “It is a _bad idea._ ”

Daisy chuckled darkly.

“Don’t fuss, grandma,” Basira said.

Suddenly, the van sped up, the engine coughing and spluttering. “Hang on, ladies,” she said, coasting into a controlled spin at the empty intersection. Empty water bottles and boxes shifted on the floor, bumping into their legs. Basira laughed as Tim clung to his seatbelt, eyes wide/mouth open wider in a silent scream.

Daisy straightened out and resumed driving like a normal maniac.

**_Nobody’s gonna slow me down_ **

**_Like a wheel I’ll turn_ **

“That’s more like it,” Basira said, smiling broadly at the terrified looks on the men’s faces. “I forgot how much of a show-off you are in the car,” she teased. Daisy shrugged.

“Please,” Tim begged, “Never. Do. That. Again.”

The women shared a knowing look. “Alright.”

“Thank y- AHH DAISY YOU TRAITOR!”

She smirked as they pulled another donut.

**_Gonna spin it  
Nobody's gonna mess me around  
  
_ **

“Better get used to it. We’ll be facing much worse than a little spin at the Dance,” she said, her eyes going dark with worry.

“Fine,” he grumbled.

“As much as it pains me, I have to agree with Tim here. That is terrifying,” Jon said, struggling to keep his composure.

“Lighten up, you guys!” Basira said.

“Kinda hard when she-“ He pointed an accusatory finger at Daisy, who grinned maliciously. “-drives like the devil himself is chasing us down.”

“Is that complaining I hear?” she asked, accelerating.

**_Hey, Satan_ **

**_Payin’ my dues_ **

The countryside passed by in a blur of green and brown. He drunk it all in, noticing little things he hadn’t seen before. Summer wildflowers dotting the sides of the road. The straight spine of an old oak. The way Basira’s hijab fluttered in the wind from the open window. Jon absently humming to the music, fingers fidgeting, forehead creased with worry lines.

Tim knew he might not see them after this bloody heroic attempt at saving the world. He was going to see it all, blast the Eye.

And so they drove. On and on, joking good-naturedly to hide their nerves, going quiet in turn in the apprehension of what was to come.

Tim scrolled through his music, his thumb hovering over the _play_ button on the album for a moment, before shrugging and pressing it.

_The Bifrost incident. Any schoolchild can tell you about it. The fall of the old order. 200 years of Asgardian hubris come together in a single, epoch-defining event. The maiden voyage of a train through the stars…_

**_Playin’ in a rockin’ band_ **

**_Hey, mamma_ **

Jon jerked his head around, staring at the other passengers in panic. “Wh- how did- why- TIM!” 

The accused just laughed, leaning his head against the window. “Jonny D’Ville, I can’t believe you thought you were going to be able to hide this from us.”

“Captain D’Ville to you, Mr. Stoker,” he muttered as the Mechanisms’ album began to play.

“Ah, first mate, I believe,” Daisy said from the front seat.

“We are might be driving to our deaths and you can’t give me this one bit of satisfaction?” Jon asked in mock outrage.

But the music continued to play.

**_Look at me_ **

**_I’m on the way to the promised land_ **

The sky became dark and heavy on their shoulders, pressing the life out of their surroundings. Jon grew antsy, bouncing his knees against each other. “Ready?” he asked as their destination loomed nearer.

They all nodded. Basira patted her pockets in a reassuringly threatening way. Tim saw Daisy’s knuckles tighten on the steering wheel.

“I feel like I’m driving us over a cliff,” she confessed. “It just feels…wrong.” 

**_I’m on the highway to hell_ **

**_Highway to hell_ **

“I’m sorry,” Jon said again, closing his eyes. “Nobody should have to do this. You shouldn’t have to do this.”

“Oh, get over your self-pity, this isn’t your fault,” Basira said.

He did not seem mollified but didn’t say anything else.

“Daisy, Basira, Jon, I never thought I would say this, but-“ He took a bracing breath. “It has been a pleasure annoying you.”

Basira reached back and awkwardly took his hand. “You weren’t that annoying,” she said, trying to console him.

“I take that as an insult.”

She snorted and let go, throwing half a glance at Jon. “Oh, he’s asleep,” she said emotionlessly. “Daisy, do you have a pen? Something we could use to draw on his face?”

She shook her head.

**_I’m on the highway to hell_ **

**_Highway to hell_ **

Tim pulled a marker out from under the seat. “I don’t even want to ask where this came from,” he said, uncapping it with his teeth. “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, and all that.”

With the manic energy of a dying man, he set to work, decorating his arms with garish stick figures and scribbles.

“There,” he proclaimed as Jon slept on, his forehead reading, I’M A HUGE NERD.

Daisy sighed. “Are we sure that Tim should come with us?” she asked teasingly.

“I’m ready to kick Nikola’s butt, if that’s what you mean.”

Jon sat up, rubbing his eyes blearily. “W’there yet?” he mumbled.

“Almost.” That simple word sobered up the entire van, even Tim sunk back in his seat, eyes closed lips murmuring a silent prayer to a silent god.

He didn’t speak for the remainder of the car ride, dedicating himself to preparing mentally. _Focus. Do it for Danny. Don’t let those Stranger monsters hurt Martin. Do it for Sasha. For Danny. Sasha…_

**_I'm on the highway to hell  
On the highway to hell_ **

“It was an honor serving with you, partner,” Daisy said quietly, so soft only Basira could hear.

“Don’t say that. We will come out of this alive and kicking, preferably kicking Elias right in the- never mind. But you get what I mean.” Basira put a hand on her partner’s shoulder. “I will be there through every minute of this,” she said gently.

She didn’t reply, just kept driving, eyes on the road.

**_I’m on the highway to hell_ **

**_On the highway to hell_ **

The warehouse loomed in front of them, cutting an imposing figure against the gray-green sky. “We’re here,” Daisy announced.

The preparations went as planned. Bombs were planted, tactics discussed, all participants looking grim. A last hug, a last whispered _see you in a bit_ , then they stealthily entered the building.

The House of Wax was a scene straight out of a nightmare. Talking mannequins, a choir made of flesh singing songs of pain and fear, things that bent at the wrong angles. The dim light was harsher than any lightbulb could be; shadows flickering in the corner of his eyes. The floor creaked under his feet, the wood warping slightly as Tim walked. A crack crawled across the floor, spider fingers reaching out for more room to fractal. The hairline breaks ran up and down, disappearing in the darkest corners, resurfacing with a snap and crackle that echoed strangely in the damp silence.

**_I’m on the highway to hell_ **

**_Highway to hell_ **

“Will the audience please take their positions? The show has begun,” announced a mannequin in the middle of the warehouse. She was tall, too tall, with arms that didn’t fit her body and a smile that did a little too well. A top hat balanced precariously on the top of her head, her soldier's jacket matching the red satin lining of the fading brim.

She laughed, a sound that cuts glass and then feeds it to you in pancakes.

Tim’s vision went red. This was the _thing_ that killed his brother; the monster who stole Sasha. In his opinion, no violent death would be revenge enough.

In that moment the world fell apart. People who were not people and places that shouldn’t have been there and sounds that didn’t make sense and-

**_Highway to hell_ **

**_Highway to hell_ **

His head cleared, one thought in his mind- _no_. Destroy it before it could ruin anything else.

“Oh, fine, Archivist, it’s been a pleasure, but _I really must_ -“ the thing was saying as Tim burst in between them. Jon’s face was bloody, bruised, defeated. Nikola Orsinov stood above him, elated in her victory.

“I’ll kill you. All of you!” Tim warned, the detonator heavy in his sweaty palm.

One of the ghastly choir stepped forward and said in a voice too smooth, “Will you now?” Tim slammed into one of the watching mannequins with his fists, the thing groaning underneath his attack.

“Wait, Tim, what do you see?” it said, wheezing. Something in his mind shifted with the sound of a snapping cable.

“I see-“ he struggled, trying to hold onto the fraying ends of his sanity. “I see my prat of a boss!” And suddenly it was Jon beneath him, panting with the effort of holding him back.

**_Don’t stop me_ **

**_And I’m goin’ down_ **

Nikola groaned dramatically. “Spoilsport. That’s not how the game goes, Mr. Stoker!”

Tim growled. “ _Grimaldi_.”

She inclined her head, acknowledging the name. She stepped closer and he could see her eyes now, dead and lifeless as her lips curved in a mocking grin. “Once. A long time ago, before Orsinov made me. And sometimes, even now, for special occasions-“ Nikola vaulted into a back handspring, limbs curving in a way that wasn’t human yet not quite plastic either. She landed with barely a thud, softening around the edges before shifting into something remotely resembling a person.

It was man with a face that said _I have burned heaven and drenched hell, yet it still isn’t enough for me._ “Like your brother, for instance,” the thing said in a voice crackling with static. “ _And now. Shall I?_ ” It took a step closer towards him, polite in body language yet maliciously bearing down on him.

“Tim,” Jon groaned weakly, still on the ground. “What’s in your hand?”

Disoriented, he glanced at his hands, balled into angry fists. “Its… I don’t… the detonator?”

“It’s too late,” Nikola said, assuming her original form. “The world is ours. That _toy_ can’t stop us now.” She began to pace towards him with the lithe grace of a music box dancer.

“Get back!” he yelled, squeezing it threateningly. She froze, a flicker of fear crossing her pristine features. “That’s what I thought.”

She laughed again, uncertain this time. “You really think the world will fare any better under the Watcher? You think you’re saving anyone?”

Tim paused, considering. “No,” he decided, “But I don’t care.” This wasn’t about saving anyone else; this was revenge. “Jon, I don’t know if you can hear me-“ He could barely hear his own thoughts, buzzing like flies on a hot night. His body felt numb, fingertips tingling. “-but if you can, I’m sorry.” The words were thick and gummy, falling out of his mouth in a messy rush. “But thank you for this.” _Only thing left to do…_

“You can’t save him!” Nikola screamed derisively, losing her plastic composure.

“No,” Tim spat, turning and facing her deliberately. “ _But I can hurt you._ ”

She took an involuntary step back, shuddering. A demon will run when a good man goes to war. “It will not end like this,” she promised.

“You sound stressed,” Tim said dryly, eyes on the blinking lights dotting the warehouse. “You know, I hear the great Grimaldi’s in town. You should go see it. Cheer yourself up.”

“ _That’s. Not. Funny._ ” She said, enunciating every word as though in great pain.

“I know.” Tim grinned at her one last time, squeezing the detonator in his hand. A symphony of sound erupted, roaring and crashing and-

_Silence._

**_All the way  
I'm on the highway to hell_ **

**Author's Note:**

> song is, 'highway to hell' by ACDC
> 
> Miss you Tim :'(  
> We love youuuuuuu


End file.
